


Tell Me Your Secrets, I'll Tell You No Lies

by jujitsuelf



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Cougar POV, Jensen backstory, M/M, Mention of possible child abuse and/or violence, angst everywhere, musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:12:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes even the most well-crafted of masks isn't infallible. Cougar sees through Jensen's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me Your Secrets, I'll Tell You No Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended
> 
> ***
> 
> thanks to the Queen of Angst saral_hylor for the read through!

I can see the scared kid behind your soldierly facade, the cracks in your smiles, the fear hidden in banter. The house of cards you’ve built your personality on is a breath away from tumbling down and taking the best of you with it.

Does anyone know the real Jake Jensen? Do you? Or is he gone beyond recall, hidden under layer upon layer of disposable masks, quirks and traits, each one balancing precariously on the shaky shoulders of the one beneath.

You’re a hell of a soldier, I’ll freely admit it. I wouldn’t want to work with anyone else, I know you’ll always have my back and that’s something I can’t say about every team I’ve been with. But deep underneath the tough guy facade is a lonely kid looking for reassurance, I see him now and then, peeking out at me. I don’t know who messed you up, how they did it or for how long but if you asked me to, I’d gladly kill them.

I see the way your eyes go dark when anyone mentions family or backgrounds or tells tales of their childhoods. Your mask ain’t as good as you think it is. The way you lean forward and listen to Pooch when he talks about trying for kids, so rapt and enthralled in the idea, you need to be closer to him, like the happiness he’s got will rub off on you.

When we get called on to break up child prostitution rackets or people trafficking, exploitation at it’s worst level, you think nobody sees you head to the bathroom when we’re done. But I see. I know you’re in there puking your guts up. What you’re remembering, I can only guess at but I was cursed with a good imagination. I look at those kids, desperate Eastern European teenagers, hopeful of a life, any life, better than the one they’ve run away from and I wonder, did your eyes look like that once? Blank and haunted and far too old? Makes me feel sick to think of you like that, like I want to go hurt someone but I don’t know who to hunt down.

At night, when it’s quiet and all I can hear is Pooch’s snoring from the other bedroom, I wonder. What would you do if I tried to touch you, hold you? Would you let me kiss you? I want to taste you, to learn about every inch of you but would you let me? Would a touch make you smile or tremble? What memories would I bring back? Could you get past them and think of me? Or would your old tormentors come back and push me aside in your head?

So I bite my lip and bide my time. Maybe one day we’ll both be ready for the shitstorm I might bring down on us. That storm might shatter your walls, throw the real Jake Jensen out into the world for the first time in years. What would you do then? I don’t know and it scares me to think of it.

For now I’ll be content with helping you shore up your walls whenever they start to crumble. I’ll complain about your talking and laugh at your jokes and always carry extra peanut butter energy bars in my pack because they’re your favourite.

You might have spent the better part of your life alone and hiding, Jensen, but you’re not alone any more.


End file.
